


a glimpse of the eternal

by owlinaminor



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Coming of Age, Gen, Leadership
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 03:31:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11153340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlinaminor/pseuds/owlinaminor
Summary: When Shirabu Kenjirou was eight years old, his cousin pushed him into the lake.





	a glimpse of the eternal

**Author's Note:**

> this was my fic for ["forward"](https://haikyuu2ndyears.tumblr.com/), the haikyuu second-year zine! thanks goes to [becky](https://twitter.com/dickaeopolis) and [amber](https://twitter.com/ambyguity_) for looking this over, and to [carrie](https://twitter.com/carriecmoney) and [CC](https://twitter.com/The___CC) for organizing such a cool project! i haven't gotten my copy of the zine yet, but i hear it's gorgeous.
> 
> title is from [aaron perrine's wind ensemble piece of the same name](https://www.aaronperrine.com/portfolio-posts/a-glimpse-of-the-eternal-2016/).

When Shirabu Kenjirou was eight years old, his cousin pushed him into the lake.

He was standing on the edge of his family’s dock, staring down into a swirling abyss of blue and green and deep purple that swallowed the earth like a primordial black hole. The wind was churning the surface, marring what might have been clear with waves as powerful as those on the ocean. Kenjirou could feel mist coming up to splash his face, could smell the pine of the forest behind him, could see fragmented pieces of his reflection down below, as though someone had torn apart a picture of him and scattered the shards.

Kenjirou was standing on the edge, staring down –

And then, he wasn’t.

One push, one slip of his bare feet on the slippery wood, and he was inside the swirling, inside a tunnel of blue and green and purple pulling him down to some distant bottom. Water filled his nose, his mouth, his limbs. He was caught by the black hole, sinking like a stone or like a corpse in a horror film, never to be seen again –

Except that Kenjirou was not a stone or a corpse. He had arms that could pull, legs that could push, a mind more awake than it had ever been before. He pushed and flailed towards the bright light of the surface, lungs crying out for air.

But when Kenjirou did reach the surface, it was more than a breath, more than a light. It was an eternity, a vast stretch of the brightest blue calling down to him. _You did it,_ the sky seemed to say. _You got here._

Kenjirou felt at once impossibly tiny and impossibly immense, at once part of the lake and outside it, at once a tiny leaf afloat on the water and the expansive reflection of the mountains around him in the surface. The endless world of water and air flowed through him, as though, for a moment, the water had transformed him into one of its spirits.

His cousin was still cackling on the dock, and on any other day, he would have chased her down for revenge. But today, Kenjirou turned to float upon his back, closed his eyes, and turned his face up to the sun.

* * *

_“I had to do it,” his cousin said afterwards, tossing her dark ponytail over her shoulder. “You wouldn’t have learned how to swim otherwise.”_

* * *

Kenjirou stands in front of the Shiratorizawa Volleyball Team before morning practice on his first day as captain, and he can nearly feel the wood of his family’s dock beneath his feet.

There’s a group of high schoolers in front of him – his friends, his teammates, first-years he’ll have to choose between after this week – but that swirling darkness, that pull of gravity – it all rushes over him as immensely as though he’d jumped through a portal in time. His heartbeat accelerates, goosebumps rise on his skin – his entire body poises to take a leap that his mind isn’t so sure it can condone.

He looks at the faces of the new first-years, wide-eyed and eager as flowers opening beneath a deluge of rain. He knows what they’re thinking – it’s what _he_ thought when he first stepped onto this court, two impossibly long years ago. They’re thinking that they’ve cheated the system, arrived at the best school in the prefecture, and now they need to prove themselves worthy.

He looks at the new first-years, and he can picture everything they’re about to face. Practices that stretch their limbs almost to breaking, one hundred spikes and one hundred serves and one hundred receives until the movements are ingrained easily as breathing. Games that pile them with pressure, expectations of an entire prefecture bearing down their backs. Impossible points that will feel expected, natural, the very least they could do. Crowds chanting their names like the beating of an immense drum.  Moments of perfect triumph, moments of perfect exhaustion – moments of wondering why all this effort is worth it, and moments of paradise as peaceful as the still surface of a lake.

He looks at the new first-years, and he can hear it all again. Ushijima’s deep voice telling him never to waver, Tendou’s nasal one telling him he’d be a great captain if he ever gets that stick out of his ass, Semi’s sarcastic sneer telling him not to fuck this up, Yamagata’s calm tone telling him not to be too hard on the poor freshmen. Oohira reminding him to just be himself. Washijou stating (as though Kenjirou didn’t already know) that they need to get to Nationals next year, at any cost.

The water is dark and deep beneath Kenjirou. Maybe he can swim to the surface this time, maybe he can’t. He won’t know until he takes that leap. And the knowledge that so many people believe in him – that Washijou let him make this speech on his own, that Goshiki is practically vibrating with excitement as he awaits Kenjirou’s first words – only makes him more scared that he’ll let everyone down. Ushijima never hesitated before talking to the team. The captains before Ushijima probably never hesitated either. Maybe Kenjirou should resign right now, before anyone can watch him fail –

He needs to stop thinking about this. He can’t stop thinking about this. He’s trapped on top of the dock, one foot poised to jump and the other stuck fast –

And then, Taichi reaches out one long arm and pushes him forward.

Kenjirou steps forward – jumps off – lets the water take him. Once he’s inside the lake, he can only swim to the surface, because he _has_ to swim to the surface. And for a moment, he feels at once impossibly tiny and impossibly immense – part of his team and outside it – connected to something that predates and will outlive him.

“Good morning,” he says, his voice loud and clear. “And welcome to Shiratorizawa.”

**Author's Note:**

> why do i keep writing fics with water metaphors? ask me about it on [twitter](https://twitter.com/owlinaminor) and/or [tumblr](http://owlinaminor.tumblr.com/)


End file.
